First Peter
by hairsprayheart
Summary: For Peter Pevensie, it was easy to say yes to his siblings. To anyone else, it was hard. Chronicles of Narnia oneshot. Peter-centric.


**First Peter**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."

-1 Peter 4:8 (NIV)

_He lived and died for his family._

For Peter Pevensie, it was easy to say yes to his siblings. To anyone else, it was hard.

This was the case, most particularly, with his sisters' suitors. He always got the feeling that they were some kind of predator, and the most dangerous sort, at that: for they were always pretending not to be. He had said yes to them, these suitors, only twice, and for the same reason each time.

Above all else, he was a brother. He would never forget that he was a king, he was _the _king, the high king. He was also a knight and a servant of Aslan, a comrade, a warrior, a swords man, a legend. He was a student, a dreamer, a son, a storyteller, a teacher, a friend. But first, he was Peter. He was a brother.

And when he looked into the eyes of his sisters' suitors, he looked long and he looked hard. He wanted to make sure that there was love there. Not the same sort of love that he had for them, and certainly not comparable to that of Aslan, but it had to be there. That small spark of desperation, the silent plea, the knowledge that without that _yes_ they would die, was what he needed to see before he gave it. And he did not even see those things, so that "yes" was quite rarely given. Only twice.

The first time, the word had been difficult to say. It was said on account of the very last person he thought he would have to say it for: Lucy. His baby sister. Of course he understood that someone loved _her_, it was just a rather strange thought that she might be able to focus the majority of her love on one person. (Particularly wounding: someone other than him.) But he did not doubt his sister's judgment. He never had. And when he watched Lucy with _him_, this love struck fellow, he knew that she had chosen. And chosen well. And so it was that a few months into the fifteenth year of his reign, Tumnus the Faun finally mustered up the courage to ask Peter for Queen Lucy's hand.

It was painfully obvious that the Faun was nervous; he trembled all over as they had tea, and was even less talkative than usual. For a moment, Peter wasn't sure if the poor chap was even going to ask, after all. But he did, though he beat about the bush for a short while beforehand.

"Queen Lucy is so pure and perfect," the Faun murmured, lifting a teacup to his lips with shaking hands. He had peered intently into the steam rising from the cup, as if searching for an elusive answer as it disappeared. "Not at all like me."

Peter had said nothing, knowing that, as he usually did, Tumnus would continue after a short pause to gather his thoughts.

"But I fear I am in love with her," he whispered, his voice breaking midway through.

At that moment, Peter remembered, he had removed his crown and looked the distraught Faun straight in the face.

"And why should you be afraid of that, good Tumnus?"

A muscle jumped along the Faun's jaw.

"I have done things..." he said weakly, faltering. His head dropped.

"We have all done things," Peter murmured, reaching out to touch Tumnus' bare shoulder. "It is not bad to love Lu, nor to be loved by her. It is a gift; one that we share."

It was difficult to say what startled the Faun the most: Peter's contact, his use of the queen's nickname, his open proclamation of the queen's feelings, or his comparison of the two of them. But one of these had gotten through to him, for he dared to speak again.

"I have sinned against Aslan." His voice was hoarse and raw, and though he would not admit it, Peter had been deeply shaken.

"Come on, old friend," he encouraged. "All has been forgiven. It was a long time ago. You know that."

"I am not good enough for her," Tumnus despaired.

"Tumnus," Peter said, his voice authoritative as he stood. "Love covers all wrongs. Your love for Lucy, and Aslan's love for you."

He lifted his crown and weighed it in his hands, a familiar burden. He watched the Faun raise his head. He knew that this was not the match the kingdom needed - the duke of Terebinthia had sent their son to arrange a match, and an alliance would be nice - but it was the one that it hoped for. As High king, it was his responsibility to decide what was best for his kingdom. As eldest brother, it was his responsibility to decide what was best for his family.

And he had made his decision. He replaced the crown on his desk and looked at the Faun, a slight smile dancing on his lips.

"Don't you have something to ask me?"

The Faun's mouth fell agape and remained that way for a moment before he managed to collect himself. He stood, brushing himself off, and cleared his throat. He bowed low, twice, and began in a quivering voice: "High King Peter, the Magnificent—"

Peter waved, gesturing to skip the formalities (and multiple titles), and smiled encouragingly.

"May I have your permission to court her Majesty Queen Lucy?"

"Yes," Peter said firmly, clapping the Faun on the back and pulling him into an embrace. "Aslan's blessing be upon you... brother."

For reasons unknown to him, the Faun swung Peter's hand back and forth wildly before rushing out of the room, calling his thanks as he went.

The High King had smiled to himself as he donned his crown, though not in any hurry.

Peter always looked back on the days of their first time in Narnia. There was a reason they called it the Golden Age. That was the first time he had said yes to a suitor. And it had been painful, but it had been his duty, as a brother.

The second time had been a surprise. Well, not entirely. This time, it had been Susan. That part in itself was a surprise; Narnia's radiant flower, renowned for her inability to pick a husband, had waited fifteen, or sixteen, or you might even say thirteen hundred, years to do so. And it was one of the least likely candidates.

They had just finished a battle, complete with a daring rescue by said suitor, when the question was sprung upon him. His face was still bloody and his shoulder sore.

"High King Peter."

The voice was respectful, deep, and accented. It belonged to none other than Caspian X.

"I know we haven't really gotten along, or even gotten to know each other, but—"

Caspian was right on both accounts. But Peter knew that Aslan had spoken with him earlier, and he also knew that Susan liked him. A lot.

Peter had turned around from where he had been washing himself in a basin, already knowing in his heart what the question was going to be, even though his head had not quite wrapped itself around the idea yet. He greeted his friend silently with a warm smile, letting him finish the question.

"I was wondering if it might be all right with you if I could court her Majesty, Queen Susan."

Peter hesitated only for a moment. As a king, he had to defend himself against potential threats. But as a Narnian, and mostly as a brother, he did not have to. And he no longer viewed Caspian as a threat. He was a friend, a fellow knight of Narnia, and quite nearly a brother, as well. Most importantly, he was the man Susan loved. Though he did not know Caspian as well as he would have liked, knowing that was enough.

"Yes," he said. And more confidently: "Yes."

Caspian nodded and thanked him calmly, though as soon as he was out of sight Peter could hear his swift, sure stride taking him to Susan as quickly as possible.

The High King knew that the feuding Narnians might not agree with this unlikely pairing, but resolving any fight would be worth it for the sake of his sister's happiness. Fights were not forever - or so he had learned - but love was.

Unfortunately, this was not so either, for they were gone, again, too soon. And when Susan paraded boys in front of him (back "home"), he was glad that there was no set of established rules for courting here, or that he was the one being asked for permission. Because he would have said no. He may have not been her king anymore, but he was still her brother. He was still Peter.

When Lucy cried, and asked if Susan would be all right, if it would _all_ be all right, he said yes. Because he had to. Because he was her brother. Because he had to lie about it to himself, too, because he was Susan's brother as well, and he could not stand to see her the way she was.

He died holding them in his arms. No one else would know this, because he had thrown himself over them in one last, desperate attempt to protect them, even as they felt the shudder and heard the screech. Needless to say, it hadn't worked in the way one might have hoped, but then, there they were: Lucy, and Edmund, standing beside him like nothing had happened – though something _had _happened, something that could not be explained. And Digory and Polly and Eustace and Jill were there too. But not Susan. Not yet.

And when she finally came, it could not be said how long later, Susan fell at his feet, weeping, and asked him to forgive her, and he said _yes_. Because he already had. Because he was her brother. Because he was Peter.

Peter the Magnificent. Peter the High King. Peter, _Sir_ Peter Wolfs-bane. Peter, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion. Peter the Narnian.

Peter Pevensie. Peter the schoolboy, Peter the one who got in fights for dumb reasons, Peter, trusted by his mother. Peter, the altogether unremarkable in the eyes of others, but the world in the eyes of his siblings.

But first, he was Peter. Peter who loved his siblings and his land and his Lord.

Peter. Who loved, first.


End file.
